Sandpoint Schole' Academy Presents Much Ado About Nothing | Special Event

If you could begin making your way to your seat at this time, we'll be starting in just a few minutes.

Concessions will close here right about now, and we'll get started. He's very nervous.

He's not really, but I love him. How many gentlemen have you lost in this action? A few.

A few. A few.

A few. A few.

A few. A few.

A few. A few.

A few. A few. A few.

A few. A few. A few.

A few. A few. A few.

A few. A few.

A few. A few.

How did you encounter it? Never came trouble to my house in the likeness of your grace. For trouble being gone, comfort should remain.

But when you depart from me, sorrow shall abide, and happiness takes its leave. You embrace your charge too willingly.

I think this is your daughter. Her mother hath many times told me so. Were you in doubt, sir, that you asked her?

Senior Benedict. No, for them were you a child. If Signior Leonato be her father, she would not have his head on her shoulder for old

Messina, as like him as she is. I wonder that you will still be talking, Signior Benedict.

Nobody marked you. What, my dear lady, disdain? Are you yet living? Is it possible that disdain should die when she has such meek food to feed us,

Signior Benedict? Courtesy itself must convert to disdain when you come in her presence. Then is courtesy a turncoat.

But it is certain I am loved of all ladies, only you accepted. And I would

I could find it in my heart that I am not a hard heart, for truly I love none. Dear happiness of woman, else there be trouble with the pernicious suitor.

I thank God in my cold blood I am of your humor for that. I'd rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me.

God keep your ladyship still in that mind. So some gentleman or other shall escape a predestinate's scratched face.

Scratched? You could not make a worse turn such a face as yours were. Well, you are a rare bear, teacher.

A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours. I would my horse at the speed of your tongue and so be continued.

But keep your way, in God's name I have done. You always end with a jade trick. I owe you a bowl.

Signior Claudio and Signior Benedict, my dear friend Leonato hath invited you all to stay here at the least a month, and he heartily prays some occasion may detain us longer.

I dare swear he is no hypocrite, but prays from his heart. If you swear, my lord, you shall not be forced for it.

Let me bid you welcome, my lord. Being reconciled to the prince, your brother, I owe you all duty. I thank you.

I am not of many worth, but I thank you. Please let your grace lead on. We will go together. Benedict.

Didst thou note the daughter of Signior Leonato? I noted her not, but I looked on her.

Is not she a modest young lady? Why, in faith, we think she is too low for high praise, too brown for fair praise, too little for great praise.

Why, this one commendation I can afford her, that were she other than she is, she were unhandsome.

But, being no other than as she is, I do not like her. Thou think'st I am in sport.

I pray thee, tell me truly how thou likest her. Would you buy her, that you inquire after her?

Can the world buy such a jewel? Yea, and a case to put it into. Will come speak you this with a sad brow?

What key shall a man take you to go in the song? Am I nigh? She is the sweetest lady

I ever looked on. I can see yet without spectacles, and I see no such matter. There is her cousin, and were she not possessed with a fury, it exceeds her in much in beauty as the first of May doth the last of December.

But come, I hope you have no intent to turn husband, have you? I would scarce trust myself, though I'd sworn the contrary of hero would be my wife.

Is come to this? Shall I ever see a bastard of three score again?

Go, to a faith, and that when he thrusts thy neck into a yoke, wear the print of it, and sigh away

Sundays. Look, Don Pedro's returned to seek you. What secret hath held you here, that you followed not to Leonato's?

I would your grace would constrain me to tell. I charge thee on thy allegiance. He is in love.

With who? Now, that is your grace's part. Mark how short his answer is.

With Hero, Leonato's short daughter. Amen, if you love her, for the lady is very well worthy.

You speak this to fetch me in, my lord. By my troth, I speak my thought. And in faith, my lord,

I spoke mine. And by my two faiths and troths, I spoke mine. That I love her,

I feel. That she is worthy, I know. That I neither feel how she should be loved, nor know how she should be worthy, is the opinion that fire cannot melt out of me.

I will dine it at the stake. Thou wast ever an obstinate heretic in the despite of beauty. That a woman conceive me,

I thank her. That she brought me up, I likewise give her most humble thanks. But because I will do myself the right to trust none.

And the fine is for the witch I make of the finer. I will live a bachelor. I will see thee, ere

I die, look pale with love. With anger, with sickness, or with hunger, my lord. Not with love.

Well, if ever thou wouldst fall from this faith, thou wouldst prove a noble orator. My liege, your highness now may do me good.

My love is thine to teach. Teach it but how, and thou shalt see how apt it is to learn any hard lesson that may do thee good.

Hath Leonato any son, my lord? No child but Hero. She's his only heir.

Dost thou affect her, Cornelius? Oh, my lord, when you went onward on this ended action,

I looked upon her with a soldier's eye. That liked, or had a rougher task in hand than to drive liking to the name of love.

But now I am returned, and that war thoughts have left their places vacant. In their runes comes haunting soft and delicate desires, all prompting me how fair a young hero is.

Saying then, I liked her ere I went to wars. Thou wilt be like a lover presently, and tire the hero with a book of words.

If thou dost love fair Hero, cherish it, and I will break with her and with her father, and thou shalt have her.

Was it not to this end that thou beganst to twist so fine a story? How sweetly you do minister to love, but no love's grief by its complexion.

But if my liking might too sudden seem, I would have sabbed it with a longer treatise. What need the bridge much broader than the flood?

The fairest grant is a necessity. Look, what will service fit? Tis once thou lovest, and I will fit thee with the remedy.

I know we shall have reveling tonight. I will assume thy part in some disguise, and tell fair Hero I am

Claudio, and in her bosom along clasp my heart, and take her hearing prisoner with the force and strong encounter of my amorous tale.

And then after to her father will I bring. And the conclusion is, she shall be thine. My lord, why are you thus out of measure sad?

There is no measure in the occasion that breathes, therefore sadness is without limit. You have of late stood out against your brother, and he has taken you newly in his grace.

Would it be possible you should take true root, but by the fair weather that you make yourself? It is needful that you frame the season for your own harvest.

I had rather be a canker in a hedge than a rose in his grace. It better fits my blood to be to stain the ball than to fashion a carriage to rob love from any.

In this though, I cannot be said to be a flattering, honest man. It must not be denied, but I am a plain -dealing villain.

I am trusted with a muzzle, and therefore I have decreed not to sing in my cage. If I had my mouth,

I would bite. If I had my liberty, I would do my liking. In the meantime, let me be that I am, and seek not to alter me.

Can you make no use of your discontent? I make all use of it, for I use it only. Who comes here?

What news, Baratheon? I came yonder from a great supper. The prince, your brother, is royally entertained by a

Leonata, and I can give you intelligence of an intended marriage. Will it serve for any model to build

Miss Siobhan? Marry, it's your brother's right hand. Who, the most exquisite

Claudio? Even he, he wishes to marry Pyrrho, the daughter and heir of Leonata. I heard it agreed upon that the prince should woo her for himself, and having obtained her, give her to Count Claudio.

Come, come, this may prove good food to my displeasure. That young start -up hath all the glory of my overthrow.

If I can cross him any way, I will bless myself everywhere. You are both sure and will assist me?

To the death, my lord. Was not

Count John here at supper? I saw him not. How spartan'd that gentleman look.

I could never see him but that I am hard -turned an hour after. He is a very melancholy disposition. He were an excellent man that were made just in the midway between him and Benedict, the one too much like an image that says nothing, and the other too much like my lady's eldest son, ever more tattling.

By my troth, niece, thou wilt never get thee a husband if thou be so shrewd of thy ton. In thanks, she is too cursed.

I pray upon my niece every morning and evening, lord, I cannot endure a husband with a beard on his face.

I'd rather lie in the woollen. You may have liked on a husband that hath no beard. What should

I do with him? Dress him in my apparel and make him my waiting gentleman? No, he that hath a beard is more than a youth, and he that hath no beard is less than a man, and he that is more than youth is not for me, and he that is less than a man

I must have. Well, niece, I trust you will be ruled by your father.

Yes, babe, it is my cousin's duty to make his courtesy and say, mother, as it please you. But for all that, cousin, let him be a handsome fellow, else make another courtesy and say, mother, as it please you.

Well, niece, I hope to see you one day clitted with a husband. Not till God make men of some other metal than earth.

Would not grieve a woman to be overmastered by an exclusive valley of dust? To make an account of her life to a flawed and wayward moral?

No, uncle, I'll none. Adam's sons are my brethren, and truly I hold it a sin to master my kindred. The revelers are entering.

Oh! Oh! Oh!

Oh! Oh! Will you walk about with me, friend?

I may say so when I please. And when please you to say so? When I like your favor. God defend that the loot should be like the case.

Not now. But I was disdainful, and that I had my good wishes. Well, this was the noble Benedict that said so.

What's he? I'm sure you know him well enough. Oh, die, believe me. But he never made me laugh.

I prayed it. What is he? Why, he's the Prince of Jester, a very dull fool.

When I know the gentleman, I'll tell him what she said. Do, do. He'll but break a comparison or two over me, which, peradventure, not marked or laughed at, strikes him into melancholy, and then, as a party drink he plays, he was eaten very stubborn that night.

In every good thing. Are you not

Signor Benedict? You know me well. I am he. Signor, you are very near my brother in his love.

He is enamored on Hero. I pray you dissuade him from her. She is no equal for him in her birth.

You may do the part of an honest man in it. How know you he loves her? I heard him swear his affection.

So did I, too. And he swore he would marry her tonight. Come, let us to the banquet. Thus answer

I in the name of Benedict. I hear these ill news with the ears of Claudio.

His certain soul. The Prince woos for himself. Friendship is constant in all other things, save in the opposite affairs of love.

Farewell, therefore, Hero. Come, Claudio.

Will you go with me? The Prince hath got your Hero. I wish him joy of her. Did you think the

Prince would have served you thus? I pray you, leave me. Who? Now you strike like a blind man.

Twas the boy that stole your mate, and you'll beat the post? It will not be I'll leave you. Alas, poor hearted fowl.

Look that my lady Beatrice should know me, and not know me. The Prince is fooled. Ha! It may be

I go not to hell because I am married. Yay. So I'm apt to do myself wrong. I am not so reputed.

It is the base, the bitter disposition of Beatrice that puts all the world into her person, and so gives me out.

Well, I'll be revenged as I may. The lady

Beatrice hath a quarrel to you. The gentleman that danced with her told her she was much wronged by you. Oh, she misused me past the endurance of a block.

An oak with one green leaf would have answered her. My very mask began to assume life in school with her.

She told me, not knowing that I had been myself, that I was the Prince's jester, that I was duller than a great thaw, huddling just upon just with such impossible conveyance that I stood like a man at the market with a whole army shooting at me.

She speaks Ponyard and every word stabbed. Why, if her breath were as terrible as her terminations, there were no living near her.

She would infect to the North Star. Come, talk not of her.

I would God some scholar would conjure her, for certainly while she is here, a man may live as quietly in hell as in a sanctuary.

Indeed, all disquiet, horror, and perturbation fall with her. Look, here she comes.

Will you, Grace, command me any service to the world? And I will go now to the slightest errand to the

Antipodes. I will fetch you a toothpicker from the furthest inch of Asia to bring you the length of Prester John's foot, fetch you a hair off the great champ's beard, do you any emissage to the

Pygmies, rather than a three -word conference with this harpy. Will you, Grace, command me no service?

None but to desire your good company. Oh, sir, here's a dish

I love not. I cannot endure my lady tongue. Come, lady, come.

You've lost the heart of Signior Benedict. Indeed, my lord, he lended me a while, and I gave him use for it.

A double heart for a single one, merry. He won it before me by false dice, therefore your grace may well say

I have lost it. You have put him down, lady, you have put him down. Though I wouldn't, he should do me, lest I prove the mother of fools.

I've brought Count Claudio, and he'll fetch me the sheep. Why, how now, Count, wherefore are you sad?

Not sad, my lord. How then, sick? Neither, my lord.

The count is neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor well. But stipple, Count, stipple as an orange, and something of that jealous complexion.

If faith, lady, I think your blazing to be true. Though, I'll be sworn, if he be so, his conceit is false.

Here, Claudio, I have wooed in thy name, and fair hero is won. I have broke with her father, and his good will obtained.

Name the day of marriage, and God give thee joy. Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my fortunes.

His grace hath made the match, and in grace say amen to it. Speak, Count, to your pupil.

Silence is the perfectest herald of joy. I are but little happy if I could say how much. Lady, as you are mine,

I am yours. Speak, cousin, or if you cannot, stop his mouth as a kiss, and let him not speak neither.

In faith, lady, you have a merry heart. Yea, I'm hurt, I thank it, poor fool.

He keeps on the windy side of care. My cousin tells him in his ear that he is in her heart. And so she doth, cousin.

Thus goes everyone to the world with I, and I am sunburnt. I may sit in the corner, cry hey -ho to her husband.

Lady Beatrice, I will give you one. Will you have me? No, my lord, unless I may have another for working days.

Your grace is too costly to wear every day, but I beseech you, grace, pardon. I was born to speak all more than no matter.

Your silence most offends me, and to be merry best becomes you, for out of question you are born at a merry hour.

No, faith, my lord, my mother cried. But then to the sardines and under that was I born.

Cousin, God give you joy. Niece, will you look to those things I told you of?

I cry you mercy, uncle. By your grace, pardon. By my troth, a pleasant -spirited lady, but she cannot endure to hear tell of a husband.

Oh, by no means. She mocks all her wooers out of suit. She were an excellent wife for Benedict.

Oh, lord, my lord, if they were but a week married, they would talk themselves mad. I will undertake one of Hercule's labors, which is to bring

Signior Benedict and the Lady Beatrice into a mountain of affection, the one with the other. My lord,

I am for you. And, and I, my lord. And you too, gentle hero?

I will do any modest office, my lord, to help my cousin to a good husband. If we can do this,

Cupid is no longer an archer. His glory shall be ours, for we are the only love gods. Go in with me, and I'll tell you my dream.

It is so, that Count Claudio shall marry the daughter of Leonardo. Yea, my lord, but I can cross it.

I am sick in displeasure to him, and whatsoever comes athwart his affection ranges evenly with mine.

How canst thou cross this marriage? I think I told your lordship, a year since, how much I am in the favor of Margaret, the waiting gentlewoman to Hero.

I remember. I can, at any unseasonable instant of the night, appoint her to look out her ladies' chamber window.

What life is in that to be the death of this marriage? The poison of that lies in you to temper. Go you to the prince, your brother, and to Count Claudio, and tell them you know

Hero loves me. They will scarcely believe this without trial, so that you will see me at her chamber window, hear me call

Margaret Hero, and hear Margaret term me Claudio. Grow this to what adverse issue it can.

I will put it into practice. Be cunning in the workingness, and thy fee is a thousand ducats. Boy. Yes?

There is a book in my chamber window. Bring it hither to me in the orchard. But I am here already. I know that.

But I would have the hand to end here again. I do much wonder that one man, seeing how much another man is a fool, when he dedicates his behaviors to love, will, after he hath laughed at such shallow fawns as others, become the argument of his own scorn by falling in love.

And such a man is Claudio. I have known when there was no music with him, but the drum and the pipe, and now will he rather hear the taver and the pipe.

I have known when he would walk ten miles afoot to see a good armor, and now will he lie ten nights awake having the fashion of a new doublet.

Shall I be so converted to see with these eyes? I cannot tell. I think not.

One woman is fair, yet I am well. Another is wise, yet I am well. Another virtuous, yet I am well.

But till all graces be in one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace. Which shall she be?

That's certain. Wise, but I'll none. Mild will come not near me.

Virtuous, or I'll never cheapen her. I've a good discourse, and an excellent musician.

And her hair shall be of what color? Please, God. Ha, the prince, and wants your love.

I'll hide thee in the armor. Come, shall we hear this music? Yea, my good lord.

How still the evening is, as hushed on purpose to grace harmony. Do you wear better to cap it himself?

Oh, very well, my lord. Come, Balthasar.

We'll hear that song again. Yea, good my lord. Tax not such a bad voice to slander music any more than once.

I pray thee, sing, and let me woo no more. Since you talk of wooing, I will sing. Since a wooer doth prune his suit, to her he thinks not worthy, yet he wooeth.

Yet will he swear he loves? Now, pray thee, come, or thou 'lt hold longer your argument.

Do it in notes. Note this before my notes. There is not a note of mine that is worth noting.

Why, these are very crutched, say he speaks. No notes forsooth, and nothing. ♪

Sad, lonely fool, lonely fool, lonely fool, lonely fool ♪

By my troth, a good song. I'm an ill singer, my lord. Ha, no, no, fair, thou singest well enough,

Farship. And he had been a dog that should have howled not, and they would have hanged him. I pray

God his bad voice bowed no little mischief. Yea, Mary, this I'll hear of Alcazar.

I pray they get us some excellent music, for tomorrow night we would have it at the Lady Hero's chamber window. The best

I can, my lord. Do so. Farewell. Come hither, Leonardo. What was it you told me of today?

That your niece Beatrice was in love with Signior Benedick? Oh, aye. Stock on, stock on.

The vowel sits. I did never think that lady would have loved any man. No, nor I neither.

But most wonderful that she should so dote on Signior Benedick, whom she hath in all outward behaviors seemed ever to abhor.

Is it possible? Is this the wind in this corner? By my troth, my lord,

I cannot tell what to think of it but that she loves him with an enraged affection. It is past the infinite of thought.

Why, what effects of passion show she? What effects, my lord? She will sit you.

You heard my daughter tell you how. She did indeed.

How, how, pray you. You amaze me. I would have,

I thought, her spirit had been invincible against all assaults of affection. I would have sworn it had, my lord, especially against Benedick.

I should think this a goal. What did the graver that fell speak it? He hath taken the affection.

Hold it up. Hath she made her affection known to Benedick? No, and swear she never will.

That's her torment. She wrote him of her love, but tore the letter into a thousand half -pence, railed in herself that she should be so immodest.

Then down upon her knees she falls, weeps, sobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, curses.

O sweet Benedick, God give me patience. It were good that Benedick knew of it by some other, as she will not discover it.

To what end? He will but make sport of it and torment the poor lady worse. And he should.

It were an alms to hang him. She's an excellent sweet lady, and virtuous. And she is exceeding wise.

In everything but in loving Benedick. Hero thinks she will surely die.

For she says she will die if you love her not. And she will die if you make her love known.

And she will die if you woo her, rather than she bate one breath of her accustomed crossness.

Shall we go seek Benedick, and tell him of her love? Never tell him, my lord. Let her wear it out with good counsel.

Nay, that's impossible. She may wear her heart out first. I love

Benedick well, and I could wish that he would modestly examine her himself, to see how much he is unworthy, so good a lady.

If you do not dote on her upon this, I will never trust my expectation. Let there be the same net spread for her, and that must your daughter and her gentlewoman carry.

Let us send her to call a man to dinner. This can be no trick.

The conference was sadly borne. They have the truth of this from Hero. They seem to pity the lady.

It seems her affections have their full vent. I hear I am censured.

They say I'll bear myself proudly, if I perceive the love come from her. They say too that she would rather die than give any sign of perfection.

I did never think to marry. I must not seem proud. Happy are they that can hear their attractions and put them to mending.

They say the lady is fair. Tis true, I can bear the witness. And virtuous.

Tis so, I cannot reprove it. And wise, but for loving me. There is no addition to her wit.

Nor no argument of her folly. For I will be horribly in love with her. I may chance to have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me, because I've railed so long against marriage.

But doth not the appetite alter? I may in love with the mean as you think I endure in his age.

Shall crypts and sentences and these paper bullets of the brain awe a man from a career of his liking? No, the world must be peopled.

When I said I would die a bachelor, I did never think I would live till I were married. Ah, here comes

Beatrice. By this day, she's a fair lady. I do spy some marks of love on her. Against my will,

I am sent to bid you come into dinner. Fair Beatrice. Thank you for your pains.

I took no more pains for those thanks than you took pains to thank me. If it had been painful, I would not have come.

You take pleasure, then, in the message? Yea, just so much as you may take upon a knife -pointed choker -doll with saw.

You have not finished, you will? Very well, then. Against my will,

I am sent to bid you come into dinner. There's a double meaning in that. Good Margaret, run thee to the potter's.

There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice composing with the prince and Claudio. Whisper her ear and tell her that I and Ursula walk in the orchard and our whole discourse is all of her.

Say that thou overheardst her, and send her still unto the pleasure -bower. There will she hide her till it's dark.

This is thy office. Fare thee well on it, and leave us alone. I'll make her come, I warrant you. Now, Ursula, as we do trace his alley up and down, our talk must only be offended.

When I do name him, let it be that I part to praise him more than ever man did grant. Good, my talk to thee must be how

Benedict is sick in love with Beatrice. Of this matter, as little Cupid's crafty arrow made, that only gloom might think of.

But now begin, for look for Beatrice, like a laughing one, close by the ground to her coffin. The funnest angling is to see the fish cut with the gold oars the silver string, and greedily devour the treacherous bait.

So angle we for Beatrice, who, even now, is couched and moved uncovered to.

Sure you're not from my country, are you? Nay, go we near her, that her ear lose nothing of the false bait that we lay for it.

No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful. I know her spirits are as coy and wild as hazards of rock.

But are you sure that Benedict loves Beatrice so entirely? So says the prince in my new troth of lord.

And did they bid you tell her of it, madam? They did entreat me to acquaint him of it. But I persuaded them, if they loved

Benedict, to wish him wrestle with his affection, and never to let Beatrice know of it. Why did she so?

Doth not the man deserve such a giddly woman as Beatrice? O God of love, I know he doth deserve as much as may be yielded to men.

But nature never framed a woman's heart to prouder stuff than that of Beatrice. Disdain and scorn rise, sparkling in her eyes, misprising what they look on.

And her wit values itself so highly that to her all matter else is weak.

She cannot love. Sure, I think so. And therefore certainly it were not good she knew his love, lest she make sport of it.

Why, you speak truth. I never guessed a man, how wise, how noble, how young, how...

Rarely featured. But she would spell him backward. So turns she every man the wrong side out.

It never gets to truth and virtue that which simpleness and merit purchase. Sure, sure.

Such curfing is not commendable. No, not to be so awed in her more fashionable as Beatrice is cannot be commendable.

But who dare tell her so? If I should speak, she would mock me into air.

She would laugh me out of myself. Therefore, let Benedict, like covered fire, consume away in sighs, waste inwardly.

T 'were better death than die with mocks, which is as bad as dying with tickling. Yet tell her of it, and hear what she will say.

No. Rather I will go to Benedict and counsel him to fight against his passion. Truly I'll devise some honest slanders to stay my cousin with.

Won't doth not know how much an ill word may impoison liking. O, do not do your cousin such a wrong.

She could not be so much without true adjudgment, having so swift and excellent wit as she is prized to have, as to refuse so rare a judgment as Senior Benedict.

He is the only man at this seat. Always accepting, my dear Claudio. I pray you, madam, be not angry with me, speaking my fancy.

Senior Benedict! For shape, bearing, argument, and valour, goes foremost report guarded.

Indeed, he hath a very good name. His excellency's earnest airs he hath it. She's the one that I want her to.

You have caught her, madam. If it prove so, then let me get us a hat. Some cupid's kill with airless, some with trap.

What fires in mine ears! Can this be true? Stand I condemned for pride and scorn so much?

Condemned farewell, and made in pride adieu. No glory lives behind the backs of such.

And, Benedict, love on! I will requite thee, taming my wild heart by a loving hand.

If thou dost love, my goodness shall incite thee to find her love up in one holy band. For others say thou dost deserve, and I believe it's better than reporting thee.

I do but stay till your marriage be consummate, and then go I toward Aragard. I'll bring you thither, my lord, if you'll vouchsafe me.

Nay, that would be as great a soil in the new gloss of your marriage, as to show a child his new coat, and forbid him to wear it.

I will only be bolder, Benedict, for his company. For, from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot, he is all mirth.

He hath cut Cupid's bowstring twice or thrice, and the little hangman dare not shoot at him. He hath the heart as sound as a bell, and his tongue is the clapper.

For, what his heart thinks, his tongue speaks. I have the toothache.

Draw it. Hang it. You must hang it first, and draw afterwards.

But, scythe for the toothache? Any one can master grief, but he that has it. Yet, say

I, he is in love. The greatest note of it is his melancholy.

And when he was wont to wash his face? Yea, indeed. Nay, but his jesting spirit, which is now crept into a lute -string, and now governed by stomps.

Indeed, that tells a heavy tale for him. Conclude, conclude, he is in love.

Nay, I know he loves him. That would I know too, I warn't, one that knows him not.

Yes, and is ill -conditioned, and in spite of all, dies for him. Old senior, walk aside with me.

I have studied eight or nine wise words, which these hobby -horses must not hear. On my life, to break with him about Beatrice?

It is even so. Dear old Margaret, by this, have played their parts with Beatrice. And then the two bears will not bite one another when they meet.

My lord and brother, God save you. Good day, brother. If your leisure served, I would speak with you.

In private, if it pleased you. Yet Count Claudio may hear, for what I would speak of concerns him. What's the matter?

Means your lordship to be married tomorrow? You know he does. I know not that, when he knows that I know.

If there be any impediment, I pray you discover it. Why, what's the matter? I came hither to tell you, the lady is disloyal.

Who? Hero? Even she, Leonardo's hero, your hero, every man's hero.

Disloyal? The word is too good to pan out her wickedness. I could say she reverts. Think you of a worse title, and I will fit her to it.

Go but with me to -night. You will see her chamber window entered even the night before her wedding day. If you love her then, tomorrow wed her.

But it would better fit your honor to change your mind. May this be so. I will not think it.

If you dare not trust that you see, confess not that you know. If you will follow me, I will show you enough.

Then, when you have seen more, and you have heard more, proceed accordingly. If I see anything to -night, why

I should not marry her to -morrow? In the congregation where I should wed, there will I shame her.

And, as I would for thee to uptate her, I will join with thee to disgrace her. I will disparage her no farther till you are my witnesses.

Bear it coldly but till midnight, and let the issue show itself. O mischief strangely thwarting! O plague bright well prevented!

So will you say when you have seen the sequel. Yes, I have seen it.

And true?

Yea, or it were a pity that they should suffer in salvation, body and soul. Nay, that were a punishment too good for them.

That they should have any allegiance in them being chosen for the prince's watch. Well, give them no charge, neighbor

Donbury. First, who thinketh most a zirtless man to be constable of the watch?

You, Capestown, or George Steeple, for they can write and read. Come hither, neighbor

Steeple. God hath blessed you with a good name.

And to be a well -favored man comes by good fortune. But to write and read, that comes by nature.

Both which, master constable. You have, I knew it would be your answer. Well, for your favor, sir, why give

God thanks, and make no boast of it. And for your writing, Regent, why let that appear when there is no need for such vanity.

You are thought here to be the most fit and senseless man to be constable of the watch. Therefore, baby lantern, this is your charge.

You are to comprehend all vagrant men stand in the prince's name. How can one not stand?

Why then, take no note of him, but let him go. And presently call the rest of the watch together, and thank

God you are writ of a name. If he will not stand when he is bid in, then he is none of the prince's subjects.

True. And they are to meddle with none but the prince's subjects. You shall also make no noise in the streets.

The watch to babble and talk is most terrible. It will not be endured. We would rather sleep than talk.

We know what belongs to a watch. You speak like an ancient and a most quiet watchman, for you cannot see how sleeping should have been.

Only have a care that your bills not be stolen. You shall call to all the alehouses, and bid those who are drunken get them to bed.

But they will not. Why then, let them alone, for they are sober.

And if they make you not the better answer, you may say they are not the men you took in war. Well, sir.

If you mean it thee, you may suspect him by virtue of offence, to be no true man. If it is such kind of men, why, the less you meddle or make with them, why, the more is for your honesty.

If we know him to be a thief, shall we not lay hands on him? Truly, by your office, you may.

But you think those that touch pitch will be defiled. The most peaceable way for you, if you do take a thief, is to let him show himself what he is, and then steal out of your company.

You have always been called a merciful man. Pardon me. Truly, by my will,

I would not hang a dog, much my man, with any little honesty in him. And if you hear a child cry at night, call to the nurse and bid her still it.

But the nurse be asleep, and will not hear us. Why then, depart in peace.

And let the child wake her with grime, for the ewe that will not hear it lamb, when it bust, will never answer the calf when it bleats.

He's very cute. Well, masters, good night, and if there be any matter of waitchance, call up me.

And keep your fellow consuls and yourself. Good night. Come, neighbor.

Well, master, we hear a charge. But if a girl comes to the church by she can too, let her be.

There be one more thing. Watch about Leonata's door. The man shall be in there tonight.

There's a great quarrel tonight. And you, be vigilant of a seecher.

What, Conrad? Conrad, I say. Here, man,

I'm at my elbow. Standing close, then, under this penthouse. For a drizzle's rain, and I will, like a true drunkard, utter no more.

Come to your masters. You stand close. Is it possible that any villain should be so dear?

I wonder at it. That shows no art unconfirmed. Thou know'st that the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a cloak, is nothing to a man.

Yes, it is apparel. I mean the fashion. Yes, the fashion is the fashion. Touch, I may as well say the fool of the fool.

But thou know'st that... Seeest thou not what a deformed thief this fashion is? I know it's not deformed.

He's been a vile thief for seven years. He goes up and down like a gentleman. I remember his name.

Seeest thou not? Hear somebody? No, it was the man in the house. Seeest thou not, I say, what a deformed thief this fashion is?

How giddily it turns all the hot bloods between fourteen and five -and -thirty? All this I see. And I see that the fashion wears out more apparel than the man.

Would art not thou thyself giddy with the fashion too, that thou hast twisted out thy tale in telling of the fashion?

Not so neither. But know that I have tonight rude Margaret, the lady of Hero's gentlewoman, by the name of Hero.

She means me out at her chamber window, and bids me a thousand times the night. I tell this tale vilely.

But first I should tell thee how the prince Claudio, and my master, planted, placed, and possessed by my master

Don John, did see afar off in the orchard this inevitable encounter. And thought they

Margaret with Hero? They did. Away went Claudio enraged, swore he would meet her as appointed the next morning, and therefore the whole congregation shamed her with what he saw o 'er night, and sent her home again without her husband.

We charge her in the prince's name. Stand. Call up the right master constable.

We have here recovered the most dangerous Peter Bletchley that ever was known in the commonwealth.

And one deformed as was the master. Master! Master! You may make me a deformed boy if I want you.

Master! Never speak. We charge you, Margaret. Obey her to go with us. Come.

We'll obey you. Neighbors.

I would have some confidence with you, sir, that discerns you nearly. A pretty fact, pray you, for you see it is a busy time with me.

Merry it is, sir. Yes, intrusively so. What is it, my good friends? Good man

Burgess, sir, speaks a little often of it. An old man, sir, is better not to blunt as perhaps

I would desire they were, but in faith owns as a skin between his brows.

Yes, I thank God that I am as honest as any man that is yet living, and that is no arm's length enough.

Neighbors, you are tedious. It pleases your worship to say so.

But we are the poor duke's officers. But for my own part, if I was as tedious as a king,

I could find it in my heart bestowed all on your worship. All thy tediousness on me, ah?

I would say you know what you have to say. Merry, sir, our watch has, expecting your worship's presence, partaken a couple of errant names as it may emanate from.

One word, sir. A watch hath comprehended two auspicious persons, and we would this morning have them examined before your worship.

Take their examination yourself, and read it me. I am now in great haste, as it may appear unto you.

It shall be so. Drink some wine, and go. Fare you well. Go, good partner.

Go get you to Francis' teacup, bid him bring his pen and ink -horn, and meet me at the gym. We are now to examination.

And we must do what? We shall spaffer no witch, I warn't you. Only get the learned writer, so we can set down our acts of communication.

And meet me at the gym. Francis, be brief.

Obey to the plain effect of marriage, and you shall recount the particular duties afterward. You come hither, my lord, to marry this lady?

No. To be married to her. Friar, you come to marry her. Lady, you come hither to be married to this count?

I do. If either of you know any inward impediment as to why you should not be conjoined,

I charge you on your soul to utter it. Know you any hero? None, my lord. Know you any count?

I dare make as answer. None. What men dare do.

What men may do. What men daily do, not knowing what they do. Stand thee by, friar.

Father, by your leave, will you with free and unconstrained soul give me this maid your daughter?

As freely, son, as God to give her me. And what have I to give you back whose worth may counterpoise this rich and precious gift?

Nothing, unless you render her again. There, Leonardo.

Take her back again. Give not this rotten orange to your friend. She is but the sign and semblance of her honor.

Behold how like a maid she blushes here. Oh, what authority and truth can cunning sin cover itself withal?

Comes not this blood as modest evidence to witness simple virtue? Would you not swear, all you that see her, that she were a maid by these exterior shows?

For she is none. Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty. What do you mean, my lord?

Not to be married, not to knit my soul to an approved wanted. Dear my lord, if you in your own group have vanquished the resistance of her youth and made defeat of her virginity.

I know what you would say if I had known. You did say she did embrace me as a husband. No, Leonardo.

I never tempted her with word too large. But as a brother to his sister, she showed bashful sincerity and comely love.

Seemed I ever otherwise to you. Out on thee, seamy. You seem to me as dying in her orb, as chaste as is the bud air it be blown.

But you are more intemperate in your blood than Venus. Is my lord well that he doth speak so wide?

Sweet prince, why speak not you? What should I speak? I stand dishonored that I've gone about to loot my dear friend to this common stale.

Aren't these words spoken, or do I but dream? Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true.

O God, defend me. What kind of catechizing call you this? Make you answer truly to your name.

Is it not Hero? Who can blot that name with any just reproach? Mary, that can Hero. Hero itself can blot out

Hero's virtues. What man was he talked with you yesterday night, out at your window betwixt twelve and one?

I talked with no man at that hour, my lord. Why, then you are no maiden. Leonato, I am sorry you must hear.

Upon mine honor, myself, my brother, and this grieved count did see her, hear her at that hour last night talk with the ruffian at our chamber window, who hath indeed, most like a liberal villain, confessed the vile encounters they have had a thousand times in secret.

O Hero, what a hero hast thou been, if half thy outward graces have been placed about the thoughts and counsels of thy heart.

But fare thee well, most foul, most fair. Farewell, thou pure in piety and in pious purity.

Hath no man's dagger here a point for me? O Hero! How doth the lady?

Dead, I think. Help! Uncle! Hero! O Hero! Uncle! See him! O fate, take not away thy heavy hand.

Death is the fairest cover for a shame that may be wished for. Come now, cousin

Hero. Have comfort, lady. Doth thou look up? Yea, wherefore should she not?

Wherefore? Why, does not every earthly thing cry shame upon her? Can't you hear it in nigh the story that is printed in her blood?

Do not live, Hero. Do not open thy eyes. For, did I think thou wouldst not quickly die?

Thought I thy spirits were stronger than thy shames? Myself would, on the rearward of reproaches, strike at thy life.

Sir, sir, be patient. For my part, I am so tired and wonder, I know not what to say.

Lady, were you her bedfellow last night? No, she may not. Although, until this last night,

I have this twelve months been her bedfellow. Confirmed, confirmed. O, that a stronger maid, which was before barred up with ribs of iron, would the two princes lie, and Claudio lie, who loved her so that, speaking of her shame, washed it with tears.

Hence from her, let her die. Hear me not so long, and give in way.

By noting of the lady, I have marked a thousand blushing apparitions, a thousand innocent shames, which, with an angel's light, will feed away those blushings.

And in her eye, thou hast appeared a fire to burn away the errors that these princes hold against her maiden truth.

Call me a fool? Trust not my reading, nor my observation, which, with experimental seal, doth warrant the tenor of my book.

Trust not my age, my reverence, calling, nor dignity, if this sweet lady were I not give guiltless under some feisty error.

Friar, it cannot be. Thou seest thee the only grace that she hath but this, that she will not add to her damnation a sin of perjury.

She not denies it. Lady, what mannish you are accused of? They know that you accuse me.

I know none. If I knew more of any man, than which maiden modesty doth warrant, let all my sins lack mercy.

O my father, prove you that any man with me can burst at hours unmet, or that I may tame the exchange of words with any creature.

Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death. There is some strange misprision in these princes.

Two of them have the very branch of honor. And if their wisdom be misled in this, the very practice that lives in John the

Bastard, whose spirits toil in frame of villainies. I know not. If they speak but truth of her, these hands shall tear her.

If they wrought her honor, the proudest of them shall well hear of it. Pause awhile, and let your daughter hear the prince's love for death.

Let her be secretly kept in, and publish it that she is dead indeed. Maintain a mourning ostentation, and on your family's old monument hang mournful epitaphs.

What shall become of this? What will this do? Marry this well -carried, shall on her behalf change slander to remorse.

That may sound good. But not for that do my own this strange course, but on this travail look for greater birth.

She dying, as it must be so maintained, upon the instant that she was accused, should be lamented, seduced, and excused of every hero.

For it so falls out, that what we have replies not to the word whilst we enjoy it, but being lacked and mocked, by them we rack the value.

Then we find the virtue that possession would not show us whilst it is ours. So will it fare with Claudio, when he shall hear she has died far before him.

The idea of her life shall sweetly crease into his study of imagination, and every lovely organ of her life shall compel the more precious habit than mind she lives indeed.

Then shall he mourn and wish he had not so accused her. Let this be so, and doubt not the success of fashioning events in better shapes than I can lay it down in light to him.

Signior Leonato, let the friar advise you. Fiend that I flow in grief, the smallest twine may lead me on.

She is well consented. Come, lady, stand to me. This wedding -day is perhaps but prolonged.

Have patience, and I'll be with you. Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while?

Yea, and I will weep a while longer. I will not desire that. You have no reason. I do it freely.

Surely, I do believe your fair cousin is wrong. How much might the man observing me that would write her?

Is there any way to show such friendship? A very even way, to make a friend.

May a man do it? He is a man's object, but not yours.

I do love nothing in the world so well as you. Is that not strange? A strange thing

I know not. You were to give it to me to say I love nothing as well as you, and yet believe me not. And yet I lie not.

I confess nothing, nor I deny nothing. I am sorry to my cousin. By my sword,

Beatrice, thou lovest me. Do not wear it, Beatrice. I will swear by it, and I will make it meet it that says

I love not you. Will you not eat your word? With no sauce to be devised to it. But I protest

I love thee. But then God forgive me. What offense, sweet Beatrice? You must save me, nor must be allowed.

I was about to protest I love thee. Do it with all thy heart. I love thee so much, my heart, and I would love to protest.

Come, bid me do anything for thee. Heal for I will. Ha! Not for the wide world.

You kill me tonight. Farewell. Terry, sweet Beatrice. I am gone, though I am here. There is no loving you.

May I pray you, let me go. Hear me, Beatrice. In faith, I will go. We'll be friends first.

You dare easier be friends with me than fight with mine enemy? Is Claudia thine enemy? Have you not slandered, scorned, dishonored my kinswomen?

O, that I were a man with barren hand until I come to take hand, and then, with public accusation, uncover slander?

O, that I were a man I would eat his heart in the marketplace. Beatrice. You have covered the man out of his window.

A corrupt man. Sweet hero, she is wrong. She is slandered. She is undone.

Beatrice. O, I cannot be a man with wishing. Therefore, I will die a woman with grieving. Terry, sweet Beatrice.

By this hand, I love thee. And use it for my love in some other way than swear by it. Think you, in your soul, the count

I found, hero? Yea, as towards I have a thought or a thought. Enough. I am engaged.

I will challenge Claudia. I will kiss your hand and so leave you. By this hand, Claudia shall render me dear count.

As you hear me, so think of me. Go, comfort your cousin. I must say she is dead. And so, farewell.

Is our host's assembly up here? A stool and a cushion for the second pair. Which be the noun, doctor?

Mary, that I am, and my partner. Nay, that is certain.

We have an exhibition to examine. Which of the offenders are to be examined? Let them come before Master Constable.

Yea, Mary, first. Bring them before me. What is your name, friend? Boraccio. Pray, write down,

Boraccio. Yours, signor? I am a gentleman, sir. Write down,

Master Gentleman Conrad. Masters, do you serve God? Yea, sir, we hope. Write down, they hope they serve

God. But write God first, for God shall go before but defend such villains. Masters, it is proven already that you are little better than false names.

How unto yourselves? Mary, sir, we say we are none. A marvellous witty fellow,

I assure you. But Masters, it is thought that you are false names. Sir, I say to you, we are none.

Have you writ down there, none? Master Constable, you go not the way to examine. You must call forth the watcher or other accuser.

Yea, Mary, that's the other story. Let the watch come before me. Masters, I charge you in the prince's name, accuse these men.

This man said, sir, that Don John, the prince's brother, was a villain. Write down,

Prince John a villain. That perjury is called Prince's brother villain. What heard you him say else?

Mary, they have received a thousand ducats of Don John for accusing the lady here wrongfully.

Burglary, as ever was committed. What else, fellow? And that Claudio did mean, upon his words, to disgrace

Hero before the whole assembly. Villain, thou wilt be condemned into everlasting redemption for this.

What else? This is all. And this is more, Masters, than you can deny.

Prince John is this morning secretly stolen away. Hero was in this manner accused, in this very manner accused, and upon the grief of this has suddenly died.

Master Constable, this is Mendy, Bandon brought to me and Alice. I'll go before and show them their examination.

Come, find them, thou naughty violet. Away! You are a donkey! You are a donkey!

Dost thou not suspect my place? Dost thou not suspect my ears?

O, that he were here to write me down a donkey! But, Masters, remember not that I am a donkey. Though it ought not to be writ down,

I am a donkey. Know thou, Villanelle, full of piety, it will be gone to be thought so shortly of you, by good witness.

I am a wise fellow, and which is more, an officer. And which is more, a householder.

And which is more, a pretty piece of flesh, as ever was in Messina.

A wise fellow, and a go -to. And one that knows the law.

Again, go -to. O, bring him away. O, that I have been writ down a donkey. You will kill yourself.

I pray thee, cease thy counsel, which falls into mine ears as profitless as water in a sea.

Give not me counsel, nor let no comforter delight mine ear, but such a one whose wands do suit with mine.

Bring me a father that so loves his child, whose joy in her is overwhelmed like mine, and bid him speak of patience.

Measure his will the length and breadth of mine, and let it answer every strain for strain. But there is no such man.

For, sister, men may counsel, and speak comfort to that grief which they themselves not feel.

But, tasting it, their counsel turns to passion, which before would give perceptual medicine to rage, better upstraw madness in a silken thread, charm ache with air, and agony with words.

No, no. Tis all a man's office to speak patience to those that rean under the load of sorrow. But no such man's virtue, nor sufficiency, to be so moral when he shall endure the life himself.

Therefore, give me no counsel. Therein do men from children nothing differ.

Pray thee, peace. I will be flesh and blood. Yet then nod to all the harm upon yourself.

Make, though, that you offend, you suffer too. There thou speak'st reason.

Nay, I will do so. My heart doth tell me that Hera is belied, and that shall

Claudio know. So shall the prince and all of them that thus dishonor her. Here come the prince and Claudio hastily.

Good day, good day. Good day to both of you. Hear you, my lords. We have some haste,

Leonardo. Some haste, my lord? Well, fare you well, my lord. Are you so hasty now?

Well, all is one. Nay, do not quarrel with us, good old man. If he could wrong himself with quarreling, some of us would, my love.

Who wrongs him? Mary, thou dost wrong me, thou disassembler thou. Nay, never lay thy hand upon my sword.

I fear thee not. Mary, assure my hand that we should give your aid such cause of fear.

In face, my hand meant nothing to my sword. Tush, tush, man.

Never fear nor jest at me. I speak not as a dotard nor fool. I was under privilege of age to brag of things

I've done being young. Or what would you were I not old? No, Claudio, to thy head.

Thou hast so wronged mine innocent child and me that I am forced to lay my reverence by, and with grey hairs and bruise of many dames, to challenge thee to trial of a man.

I say, thou hast belied mine innocent child. Thy slander hath gone through and through her heart, and she lies buried with her ancestors, owed to whom whenever scandal slept, save this of hers, framed by thy villainy.

My villainy? Thine, Claudio, thine, I say. You say not right, old man. My lord, my lord,

I'll prove it on his body if he dare. Despite his night spent in active practice, his may of youth am blue, but lest he...

Away, I will not have to do with you. Canst thou daft me? Thou hast killed my child. If thou kill'st me, boy, thou shalt kill a man.

Leonato, we will not wake your patience. My heart is sorry for your daughter's death, but, on my honor, she is charged with nothing but what was true and very full of proof.

My lord, my lord, I will not hear you. No, come, sister, away.

I will be heard. Si, si, here comes the man we went to seek.

Now, señor, what news? Good day, my lord. Welcome, señor. You have come to part almost afraid.

We would like to have had our two noses snapped off by an old man without teeth.

Leonato, what thinkest thou? Had we fought, I doubt we should have been too young for him.

In a false quarrel there is no true valid. I came to seek you both. We have been up and down to seek thee.

We are high -proof melons, and would fain have it beaten away. Sir, will thou use thy wit? It is in my scabbard, shall

I drive? As I am an honest man, he looks pale. Art thou sick, or angry?

Sir, sir, you shall charge me to use my wit, and I shall meet you in the career. I pray you, choose another subject.

By this life, he changes more and more. I think he be angry indeed. Shall I speak a word in your ear?

God bless me from a challenge. Thou art a villain, I jest not. I will make it good how you dare with what you dare and when you dare.

Do me right, or I will protest your cowardice. You have killed a sweet and innocent lady. Come, let me hear it from you.

Well, I will meet you. Fare thee well, boy, you know my mind. I will leave you now to your gossip -like humor.

You break jest as braggarts do their blades, which, God be thanked, hurt not. My good lord, for your many courtesies,

I thank you. I must discontinue your company. You have among you killed a sweet and innocent lady, and your brother,

John the Bastard, has fled from Messina. And for my lord Blackbeard there, he and I shall meet.

But till then, peace be with him. He is an earnest, most profound earnest.

I award you for the love of Beatrice. And have challenged thee? Most sincerely.

But, soft you, let me be. Did you not say my brother was fled? Come you, sir.

If justice cannot tame you, she shall now wear more reason and a balance, and you will be thought a cursing hypocrite, once you be looked to.

How now? What offence have these men done? Marry, sir, they have committed... No, marry, sir, they have committed for a report.

Mourn, sir, they have slandered six, and lastly, they have belied a lady. Thirdly, they have verified unjust things, and to conclude, they are lying names.

Firstly, I ask thee, what's their offence? Thirdly, I ask thee, why they are committed?

Sixth, and lastly, what you lay to their charge?

Rightly reasoned, and in his own division. And by my troth, there is one meaning well suited.

What offence have you done, masters, that you are thus bound to your answer? Sweet prince, let me go no farther to mine answer.

You hear me, and let this count kill me. I have deceived even your very eyes. What your wisdoms could not discover, these shallow fools have brought to light.

Who, in the night, overheard me confessing to this man how Don John, your brother, incensed me to slander the

Lady Vera? How you were brought into the orchard, and saw me court Margaret in hairless garments. How you disgraced her when you should marry her.

The Lady is dead, upon mine and my master's false accusation, and, briefly, I desire nothing but the reward of a villain.

Runs not this speech like iron through your blood? Drunk poison while he uttered it.

But did my brother set thee on to this? Yea, and he paid me richly for the practice of it. He is composed and framed of treachery, and fled he is upon this villainy.

Sweet hero! Come, by this time, our sexton hath reformed

Leonardo of the matter, and, masters, do not forget to specify, when time and place shall serve, that I am a donkey.

Here comes Master Leonardo. Art thou the villain that with thy breath hath killed mine innocent child?

Yea, even I alone. Nay, not so, villain. Thou belie'st thyself. Here stand a pair of honourable gentlemen.

A third has fled that had a hand in it. I thank you, princess, for my daughter's death.

Record it with your high award of deeds. I know not what to say, yet I must speak.

Choose your revenge yourself. Impose me to what penance your invention can lay upon my sin.

Yet sinned I not, but am mistaking. On my soul, nor I.

And yet, to satisfy this good old man, I'll bend under any heavy weight that he'll enjoin me to.

I cannot bid you bid my daughter win. That were impossible. But I pray you both, possess the people in this scene to hear how innocent she died.

And if you can labour aught in sad invention, cater an epithet upon her tomb, and sing it to her bones, sing it to night.

Tomorrow morning, come you to my house, and since you cannot be my son -in -law, be yet my nephew.

My sister has a daughter, almost a copy of my child that's dead. Give her the right that you should have given her cousin, and so dies my revenge.

O noble sir, your overkindness doth bring tears from me. I do embrace your offer, and dispose henceforth of poor

Claudio. Tomorrow then, I will expect your coming. Tonight I take my leave.

Moreover, sir, which is indeed not only white and black, this plaintiff here, the offender, did call me donkey.

I beseech you, let it be remembered in its punishment. I thank thee for thy care and thy honest pains.

God save the foundation. There's for thy pains. God keep your worship.

Go. I wish your worship well. I discharge thee of thy pleasures, and I thank thee for them.

God keep your worship, and I wish your worship well. And there be any manner of meeting of us,

God prohibit it. Come, neighbor. Until tomorrow morning, lords, farewell.

Farewell, my lord. We look for you tomorrow. We will not fail. Tonight, we'll mourn with you.

Bring you these fellows on. We'll talk with Margaret how our acquaintance with this lewd fellow grew.

Sweet mistress Margaret, deserve well in my hand by helping me to the speech of Beatrice. I will help you.

And knows me. Knows me. How pitiful I deserve.

I didn't mean it singing, but loving. Leander, the good swimmer. Troilus, the first implorer of panders.

At home, book full of these quandam carpet makers, whose names yet run evenly in the smooth road of a blank verse.

Alas, their names have never been so truly turned over and over as my poor self and love.

Mary, I cannot show and rhyme. I've tried. I can find out no rhyme to lady, but baby.

I didn't see the rhyme. For scorn, horn. A hard rhyme.

And for school, fool. A babbling rhyme. No, I was not born under a rhyming planet, nor can

I woo in festival terms. Fair Beatrice, was thou common

I called thee? Yea, my lord, and departing you did. Oh, stay but till then. Then it's spoken.

Very well now. And yet, ere I go, let me go as that which I came, which is the knowledge of what hath passed to me from Claudio.

Only foul words, and therefore I will kiss thee. Foul words with foul wing, and foul wing with foul breath, and foul breath is noisome, therefore

I will depart only. Thou hast frighted the word out of his right sense, so forcible as thy wit.

But I must tell thee plainly, Claudio undergoes my challenge, and either I must hear from truly, or I will subscribe him to cowardly.

But tell me, for which of my bad parts thou first fall in love with me? For them all together, which maintain such a politic state of evil, that there would at least no good part come to mingle with them.

But for which of my good parts would you first suffer love for me? Suffer love, a good epithet.

I do suffer love, for indeed, I love thee against my will. In spite of thy heartlessness. Alas, poor heart.

If you will spite it for my sake, I will spite it for yours, for truly I will never love that which my sight hates. Thou and I are too wise to refuse it with.

But tell me, how doth your cousin? Very ill. And how do you? Very ill too.

Serve God, love me and men. And there will I leave you two, for here comes one in haste. Madam, you must come with your uncle.

It is proved my lady hero has been falsely accused, that Prince and Claudio might be abused, and Don John is the author of all who is fed and gone.

Will you come presently? We hear that, sir. I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thine eyes.

And, moreover, I will go to his crown of thorns. I will go to his crown of thorns.

was the hero that cured lies death and garden of her wrongs gives her fame which never dies so the life that died with shame lives on in death with glorious fame lays out there upon the tomb praising her when

I am done now music sound now unto thy bones goodnight nearly will

I do this right good morrow masters put your torches out the wolves have preyed and look the gentle day before the wheels of Phoebus roundabout dappled the drowsy east with spots of gray thanks to you all and leave us very well good morrow masters each is several way come lettuce heads and put on another dress and then to Leonardo before we go now hymen what your issues be then for this rendered up this world so we're the

Prince and Claudio who accused her of all the air that you heard debated but Margaret wasn't some fault for all this though against her will as it appears in the true course of all the question and so am

I being else by faith and forced to call young Claudio to a reckoning for it well daughter and you gentle women all withdraw into a chamber by yourselves and when

I send for you come hither mask the Prince and Claudio promised by this hour to visit me you know your office sister you must play mother to your brother's daughter and give her to young Claudio which

I'll do it confirmed prior I must entreat your pains I think to do what to bind me or undo me one of them senior

Leonardo truth it is good senior your niece regards me with a lot of favor that I my daughter went her tis most true and I do with my love the quieter the site whereupon

I think you have for me from the Prince and Claudio but what's your will your answer sir is enigmatic but for my will my will is your goodwill may stand with ours this day to be joined in the state of our marriage in which good friars shall desire your help my heart is with you

Viking and my help here come the Prince and Claudio good morrow to this fair assembly good morrow

Prince good morrow Claudio we all here attend you are you yet determined to wed with my sister's daughter

I'll hold my mind call her forth sister here's the fire ready which is the lady

I must seize upon why then she's mine sweet let me see your face name that you shall not do you take her hand before this fire and swear to marry her give me your hand before this holy friar

I am your husband if you like of me and when I lived

I was your other wife and when you loved you were my other husband another hero one hero died defiled but I do live and as surely as I live

I am a maid hero that is dead she died my lord but whilst her slander live all this amazement can

I obey when after these holy rites are ended I'll tell you largely a fair hero's day meantime let one day seem familiar and to the chapel let us presently stop and fair prior wishes

Beatrice I am that name what if you will do not you love me why then your uncle in the

Prince and Claudia been deceived they swore you did do not you love me talk now no more than reason they swore you were almost sick for me before you were well my bed for me tis no such matter then you do not love me

I'm sure you love the gentleman and I'll be sworn upon it that he loves her for his paper written in his own hand a halting sonnet of his own pure brain fashion the

Beatrice and here's another written in my cousin's hand containing her affection as a miracle here's our own hands against our hearts come

I will have thee but by this light I will take thee for pity I will not deny you but by this day

I yield upon great persuasion peace

I will stop your mouth the married man

I'll tell you what Prince the College of Whipcrackers cannot cloud me out of my humor in brief since I do purpose to marry

I will think nothing to any purpose the world's can devise to say against it and therefore never flouted me for I've said against it for man is a giddy thing and this is my conclusion for that part

Claudio I did think to have beaten me but in that hour I like to be my kids men live unbruised in love my cousin

I well hope that would have stopped the night Beatrice but I might have cudgeled me out of my single life come come we are friends and let's have a dance here we are married to lay in our own hearts and our wives heels we'll have dancing afterwards first of my word therefore play music

Prince that word's sad. Get thee a wife. My lord, your brother

John is ten and play. Think not on him till tomorrow.

I'll devise some brave punishments for him. Therefore, strike up, Pipers. Well, thank you all so much for coming out tonight and supporting

Scolet Academy and our very first full -length Shakespeare production. You guys did just an absolutely amazing job.

There was so much work that went into putting on tonight's production and certainly without many hands making light work there was no way that we would have been able to pull this off so I just want to say a few words of thanks before we dismiss everyone tonight.

If Caitlin Reese would please come out from behind these gorgeous backdrops. There she is. Our beautiful and talented musician.

She infused our play tonight with the beautiful music from Schumann and Mozart. And even more

Rachmaninoff there for Don John. So, thank you, Caitlin. To Chris Lundgren, our sound guy, for donating his time so generously.

Third tonight, I don't know about you guys, but not every homeschool student is born being able to project.

So, thank you so much, Chris. We appreciate you. To Peter Hammond for recording this for us tonight.

There were family and friends that were not able to make it and he was able to livestream that for us.

So, thank you. Melody Lynch for doing the lights for us. That was a little tricky to figure out in the beginning, but she pulled through.

So, thank you for doing that for us. Thank you,

Brambila, for taking pictures for us and working some backstage magic. And Elzeth Kuhl for making sure that everybody had their makeup done and beards put on and everything.

She was amazing and it definitely was a labor of love. To Brittany and Russ Meek for taking care of concessions for us tonight.

Thank you, guys. That was also a labor of love. These are family who put together these beautiful backdrops for us.

They far exceeded any expectations I had. And for the Lynch family for building scaffolding and just making our stage so beautiful tonight.

Thank you, guys. Jenny Stephens for putting together our programs and making shirts for us.

Making sure we were all fed during dress rehearsals. Thank you, Jenny, for doing that. To Angie Cates, our chief comedy producer.

She was in charge of the Dogberry and Burgess scenes. Thank you, guys.

Those were just absolutely amazing. You have a future in comedy. There were a lot of fun crafting those scenes.

And to Sarah Joy Razor. She is my right -hand woman. Always willing to do any crazy thing

I ask her to do. Like painting giant backdrops for our play.

Head cold from the last few days. And was back there cueing people. Making sure props got on and off.

So, thank you, Sarah Joy. Thanks to Maddie Lynch for the original artwork that she did for our programs.

And our playbills and our t -shirts. She's our Margaret over here on the side. Beautiful. And to our students.

Thank you guys for your hard work. This was absolutely incredible. I don't know if any of you guys have ever tried to memorize any

Shakespeare. Maybe some of you have done this before. But it is not easy. These guys have memorized pages and pages.

If not hundreds of lines. And it wasn't just by rote. They had to memorize those lines.

And then figure out how to clothe those words with action. So that you could all understand, mostly, what they were saying.

So, congratulations guys. On your very first performance. Finally, to you, our community.

You guys absolutely exceeded any expectations I had for attendance tonight. So, thank you all for coming out.

I know there are a hundred other things you could do on a Tuesday night. But you decided to come out and support your local homeschool community.